


#PULVERBATCH

by Gaffat



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Adlock, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Pulverbatch, Sexual Roleplay, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffat/pseuds/Gaffat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lara hears she’s returning for Series 4 of Sherlock, after a rather disappointing breakup, she heads back to London to look for a flat, and the first person she seeks out is a certain ‘consulting detective’ she could never seem to get out of her head. Mischief ensues :p</p>
            </blockquote>





	#PULVERBATCH

Checking her phone briefly for any new messages, Lara Pulver sat down at an unoccupied table in Speedy’s café at 187 N Gower St, taking a hearty sip of freshly made coffee, much needed after the exhausting day she had running around town. _London town_ , that was, and how good it was to be back! She could barely believe she was here on English soil, finally. And while she had come to adore LA and it’s many ‘fruits,’ the sunny weather being the chief of them, not to mention the fresh avocados and kale, she had to admit, it was lovely to be back ‘home.’ The weather wasn’t bad, even for the trailing end of winter, because to be honest, it was refreshing to at least _have_ a winter to bid adieu to, for once. Not to mention, of course, how much she’d missed seeing everyone here. The whole ‘Sherlock’ gang, Martin, Amanda, Loo, Mark, Steve, Andrew, Rupert, etc., etc. And yes, of course, _him_ , most of all.

It had been entirely too long since she’d seen him— _any of them_ , she chided herself, mutely. Their last meeting on set was great fun, naturally, even in spite of its brevity. She was quite pleased with her little cameo, and what it meant for her character - and his. But…even then in the midst of everything, there was something bittersweet about it - she knew now it wasn’t so much that it was such a short stay, but that it had been something akin to guilt. She had been busy this last year, and she supposed, looking back, she saw the strain of it pretty clearly, etched through the last trailing ends of her relationship with Raza. Getting thrown back into the reality that he had been, essentially, her second choice, hadn’t helped.

She was ripped from her unpleasant reverie by the sounding of her text tone, and she pulled out her mobile quickly to check it.

**How /late/ am I, if I’ll be there in five… ? BC**

**You’re fine; I’m in no rush. The night is yours ;) LP**

**Meaning, /you’re/ mine, Miss Pulver… ? ;-) BC**

Benedict Cumberbatch hit send as he got out of the cab, which delivered him, most amusedly, in front of the notable cafe, this time, however, sans the detective’s usual costume and the crew of cameras and hands trailing behind. He gave the driver a few bills, over tipping as always, and thanked him for not making any _‘Sherlock’_ related jibes before hopping out of the car and glancing around the, now, iconic street with a tender gaze, a flood of memories accosting his mind as he did so.  He bit his bottom lip before shaking his head to get out of his ‘mind palace’ and focus on the task ahead: seeing _her_ , for the first time in quite a while.

The last time had been far too brief, to be sure. Only one day on set, hardly there for more than five hours. Though, much to his doing they had done a _few_ more takes then necessary. Honestly, they had gotten it on the first one. It’s not like she had any lines…  Still, he always milked his time with her, on screen or off, as much as he could.  He exhaled slowly, taking a moment to close his eyes to both his head and his heart, as he always had to when having the pleasure, and pain, of holding her company. _‘Well, here goes nothing…’_ Ben thought to himself as he opened the cringe-worthy door and walked inside. Honestly, it was about time someone in this establishment put some oil into those hinges, he couldn’t help but reflect with a humoured, internal grin as his eyes danced around the moderately populated café, doing his best to ignore the overwhelming presence of ‘SHERLOCK’ photos and paraphernalia, hanging about the walls, before landing on ‘The Woman.’ The salute of such a title  held in both the hearts of Sherlock and Benedict, to be sure.

She bit her lip at her phone, in the process of turning it off, before she saw him walk in, grinning to herself and feeling like a damn schoolgirl. Honestly, she wasn’t a bloody teenager. _‘Get a grip Pulver!’_ She chided herself, though the order was more than dismissed as soon as she laid eyes on his archaic figure. Good Lord, the man’s chiseled bone structure, and body, would put Hercules to shame, she mused silently as she watched him indulgently until he caught her eye. She blushed softly once they finally had, giving him a private smile as she stood up—hopefully, not too eagerly—to greet him properly as he made his way over to the table. “Well, I don’t see anyone else around, do you?” She teased him, in playful response to his last questioning text.

His eyes locked with hers and he immediately felt himself begin to fall apart; grinning like a boyish fool in response to her sly smile. He quickly made his way over, by passing all of the stares and whispers, neither seeing nor hearing anyone or anything that wasn’t her. 

"Hullo, you.” He murmured as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, his lips accidentally landing on the left corner of her lips gently.

Lara fought another blush, unsuccessfully and smirked up at him. “It is _good_ to be home.” She drawled playfully with a wink, adjusting her skirt a bit self-consciously as she sat back down. “Have I missed anything too drastic?”

He took off his coat, placing it on the back of his chair before pulling his seat out and taking it as he considered her question and his answer.

“Mmm … unless you boycotted watching the end of series three because you didn’t make a ‘proper enough’ appearance … , then no, no I think you’re more or less all caught up.” He winked, running a hand through his hair absent mindedly before cocking his head to the side. “Or, did you mean in the life of one ‘Mr. Benedict Cumberbum?’” He asked suddenly, having no problem chiding himself, especially with her.

She grinned, leaning over the table. “‘The Cumberbum’ is always a source of intrigue to me.” She responded with a light snicker at the many meanings that could take, crossing her legs under the table. “You’ve clearly done a bit of _counting_ at the very least since last we met …” She couldn’t help but tease him, wagging her brows in playful provocation.

Benedict frowned for a moment, confused by to her statement before, suddenly, rolling his eyes and grinning back at her coyly as the light bulb went off. He sat back and crossed his arms in mock defense.

"Yes, yes I have. And I can see clearly now that I have just _ONE_ very smart arse in front of me.” He winked flirtatiously as his foot tapped her calf. God, she was clever and challenging. He loved that in a woman. Someone who refused to put him on a bloody pedestal. That’s what he loved about her. He was Ben. Just Ben, nothing more, nothing less. To be someone’s equal, in their eyes and his was exceptional. He was beginning to understand even more fully why Sherlock was so very smitten with Irene Adler. Doubles were far more arousing and interesting than anything else.

She laughed, bowing her head slightly. “By nature, dear.” She grinned, taking at least a small break to look apologetic. “Don’t worry, I’m not mocking you, it was more than cute. The orange bit, especially. “

He quirked an amused brow before rubbing his lips together and replied, “Of course it was, there were Muppets _and_ me involved, how could it have been nothing but adorable in the most Brobdingnagian of ways?”He grinned widely before glancing around and noticing the many sets of ogling eyes fixed in their direction. He licked his lips hastily and leaned forward some as he turned his focus back to her.

“Oh dear, I didn’t even really put two and two together when you gave me the location. I forgot there would be actual pedestrian patrons here … I’m so used to the street being shut down for shooting … Have they been staring this whole time?” He inquired mischievously, though he was certain that they had been, of course. Still, the prospect of her approving, or not minding, such an event was one he would like to fully decipher.

She chuckled, quieting her voice and leaning forward some as well.

"Why do you think I’m in the back? I figured everyone at least half-arse expects you to show up here, anywhere else was iffy," she replied before looking sheepish. "Plus I was in the area, saved me from hunting a new cab."

He chuckled lightly, stealing another brisk look around before his eyes returned to hers.

"Lord, how did they not pounce on you when you walked in? Let alone us both, now that I’m here …?" He wondered aloud, honestly perplexed at the notion.

"I think they’re too busy eavesdropping; don’t want to run us off." She whispered conspiratorially with secretive smile, pulling back slightly to ascertain if she was correct. Once they’d quieted there were curious mutterings that broke off suddenly as they looked around. She snickered again, finding the attention quite amusing, actually, for once. Maybe it was his presence that suddenly made even the most aggravating of things - like unwanted attention - seem entertaining.

Ben smirked and dared a wink to a particularly eager fan sitting across the way, who immediately broke out in a flush for being acknowledged. He glanced at Lara. “I think she must be a fan of Irene’s … .”

He murmured lowly, as he watched the girl’s stare at Lara’s back. “She seems to be rather transfixed, my dear. Then again, she certainly isn’t alone in that.” He smiled flirtatiously, his flattery clear, he hoped. Not that for her it wouldn’t come a dime a dozen.

Lara tried to hide a smile, more than pleased by his compliment and turned to give the girl a grin and small wave, before focusing her attention back on him.

"I’m glad my phone’s off, I’m likely getting tweeted into oblivion right now." She scoffed, dropping her mobile into her purse and scooting it bodily away from her for emphasis. Having coffee with Cumberbatch was a one way ticket to internet notoriety, apparently. Not that she had any problems with /that/ particular rumour mill.

Benedict sat back smoothly, his hands falling to his thighs out of habit as he rolled his eyes.

"You and bloody Twitter." He chuckled. "I can only imagine what ‘tumblr.’ is up to right now." His eyes scanned the few people in the cafe who he could tell were obviously using some sort of mobile device, subtlety be damned.

"I’m sure they’ve been taking pictures secretly and ‘hash-tagged’ them to death. If that’s the, uh, proper term … .  Though, I have no clue what they would ‘hashtag,’ but I’ve barely even done it before, myself, so what do I know." He shrugged wistfully, nudging her ankle with his foot lightly under the table.

She bit back a grin. “Oh, I know _exactly_ what they’d be tagging it with.” Lara chuckled. “Sometimes I seriously feel I shouldn’t be allowed on twitter, bad things happen.” She replied, by way of explanation, not elaborating, though her foot nudged his back lightly.

He gave her a crooked grin as he tilted his head to the left. “Oh, come on! Tell me. One, just _one_! Pleeeaassee! Be a dear …” He begged, pouting slightly at her, like a child would when not getting his way.

She laughed, looking down a bit bashfully. “Not on your life, Cumberbatch.” She countered with steady determination. “Now stop that damn pouting, you’re going to give someone a heart attack.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “I really don’t see how, but fine. Now then, do you have plans for the evening?” He asked with a sly grin.

She shook her head. “Told you, the night’s all yours, if you’re willing. I’ve looked at four flats today, I’ve seen my parents, and I got dragged to lunch by a friend who wouldn’t hush up till after 2:00 p.m.! I’ve absolutely nothing else to do tonight besides sit in my hotel room and watch pointless amounts of television.” She specified, chuckling at the pathetic thought.

He laughed and bit his lip, “Oh, dear… . Well, you are going to be dragged with another friend until after 2:00 _a.m._ , if you don’t object … ?” He queried, quirking a mischievous brow as he leaned his weight forward.

She smirked, eyeing him in mock contemplation, and internal delight at his response. She had hoped he wouldn’t be busy, but knowing him lately she hadn’t originally held out much hope. She was quite glad to be wrong. Just this once.

"You won’t be gossiping about your exes, will you?" She asked, a hint of weariness from her earlier encounter spilling into her eyes.

He laughed outright.

           “Um … .  Seeing as my last one was three or so years ago… no, I think you’re safe. How do you feel about dancing and perhaps a bit of drunken billiards?” He offered with a coy smile.

She looked playfully relieved. “In that case, I am all yours.” She declared with a grin. “Sounds much more entertaining than my day’s been so far…”

Ben twisted his lips in amusement before confirming her statement, “Oh I can assure it will be. Have we ever gone to a club together? I can’t even remember …” He pondered, running his index finger along his lower lip.

Her eyes drew to his mouth briefly, before growing distant, making a contemplative expression. “Sans a couple of interesting group outings during filming, not really, no.” She decided, finally, with a slightly nervous chuckle at the thought of doing such a recreational and intimate act as that, with him.

He gave a her sloth grin, “Well, we certainly need to change that, don’t we? I warn you, however, I’m _very_ good on the dance floor. Think you can keep up, Pulver?” He challenged playfully, leaning forward further to place his elbows on the table lightly.

"Oh, I dunno… . _Can you_?” she grinned, narrowing her eyes, only to then chuckle at their banter. It always came automatically, somehow, like a switch that flipped when they were within the same city limits. “Christ, we’ve been around each other less than thirty minutes, and we’re already getting competitive.” She commented, shaking her head fondly.

He shrugged. “Now, now, it’s not my fault that you are unable to let continual ability to whoop your arse at ‘Words With Friends,’ go … ,” He couldn’t keep from teasing her.

She scoffed in mock offense. “And it’s not my fault you’re a damn walking dictionary, EVEN at two a.m., half pissed!” She rebutted, giving him a stubborn look.

He wagged his brows in avid entertainment. “Pish, posh. I blame Harrow …” He tutted, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth in boyish commentary at their exchange. “Now then, come here, _Miss Adler_ , let’s give them something to break ‘tumblr.’ over, shall we?” He dared, leaning forward slowly to come closer to her person.

Her lips turned up slowly. “You’re going to get us stalked all over London.” She teased in a whisper, but leaned forward all the same.

He raised a brow at her cautious remark before reaching his hand out to cover hers brazenly, “And do you care … ?” He pressed.

She eyed him with a sly expression, tilting her head gingerly. “Mm, not _especially_ …” She murmured, his touch eliciting small bolts of electricity through her veins.

He licked his lips quickly, as the pad of his thumb stroked the top of her hand, the touch tender. “Mmm, all right, then … _kiss me_.” He braved before making a face of mock surprise, which soon turned into a wicked grin.

She shook her head, mystified. “Ben …  you are a bloody masochist.” She answered, eyeing him, knowing that he was clearly up to something, but what exactly, she wasn’t sure. Even so, she couldn’t possibly refuse such a request, and so, with as much subtlety as she could manage, leaned towards him until their lips brushed.

Benedict let her lips linger against his for only a few seconds until he pulled back sharply and slammed his hand down on the table.

“Miss Adler! We /have/ talked about this! I thought that we had come to a _clear_ understanding about ‘dinner!’ Any such activities, and others related to it, are strictly for the 'dinner table!' And last I checked, Speedy's cafe hardly looks the kind of place where we would have said, ‘dinner!’ Honesty woman, my bedroom is, _literally_ next door!” He hissed as he began to stand, pausing when up to add for a final effect, “And good luck with the new window lock, Miss Adler, consider it unintended punishment for acting out of contract.” He then grabbed his coat, threw it on, popped his collar just as Sherlock would, before following suit with his scarf. He began to turn on his heel but paused and turned back to glare down at her irately.

"You have ten minutes or I’m pulling the microscope out and you’ll just have to feed yourself for tonight.” He snarled before turning on his heel once more and striding out, nearly breaking character as he did so.

Lara had to fight every urge to not laugh herself, expecting something ‘Sherlock-esque,’ due to his prior expression, however, nothing quite like that.

"No, dear, you _really_ won’t. Nor will I be doing the latter!” She called out after him with a smug look as she rose regally, smirking after him as Irene. She gathered her things at a leisurely pace and gave the stunned room an amused once over before sauntering out of the café coquettishly, coat and bag tossed over her arm. She made sure to give a knowing wink to a particularly flabbergasted few before finally making her way outside where she burst into a fit of laughter.

Meanwhile Ben was leaning against the door of ‘221b,’ fag lit between his mouth as he grinned evilly at her upon seeing her exit. He pushed himself off from the wall as he strode towards her, stopping to give her a very low, stage bow. He chuckled on his way up, “Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all night!” He grinned widely.

Lara laughed out loud for a long moment, slipping on her coat. “God…is it your goal in life to blow up the internet or is it just some obscure, natural talent?” She raised her brows.

Ben took a puff and exhaled slowly through his nostrils before offering her a drag, if she cared, as he thought a moment, only to shrug lightly, and reply, “Bit of both … But I do have it listed under my ‘Special Skills’ section on my resume.” He winked.

She took a few steps towards him, taking the fag from his outstretched hand to enjoy a quick drag.

"Must be an interesting ‘read.’" She mused, exhaling slowly before passing back the dwindling cigarette.

He quirked an intrigued brow, “The list of my special skills, you mean? Mm, yes, quite.” He winked as he finished the fag and tossed it down, stubbing it out with his foot.

"Since when did you partake in such a disgusting habit, Miss Heath-Nut?’" He questioned teasingly as he stepped towards her more.

She shrugged. “Bit of Fleming nostalgia—takes my mind off the cold anyway. I think I’ve just gotten used to a constant of 80 degrees.” She chuckled, which evolved into a small smirk as she caught sight of a few very eager faces pressing themselves against the front windowpane Speedy’s.

"We still have an audience." She pointed out as he neared.

Benedict glanced over at their direction and gave a slight, ‘Sherlock-ian’ scowl, before turning his attention back to her. Jesus, did she have to mention Fleming of all things, now!? If only she knew how cluttered his DVR was of that show and others of her. The fact that she was exceptionally sexual in it didn’t help. He bit his bottom lip and willed himself not to think about her character’s spanking fetish and what divine fun he would have with it.

“Er, right, so we do. So, we do … .  Any thoughts?” He rumbled lowly, closing the distance between them, finally.

"Hmm …" She mused thoughtfully, looking up at him now that he was directly in front of her. "A few …" She purred, feeling her cheeks flush from his nearness even through her Irene facade. "However …  foremost is getting a cab." She gripped his coat collar as he neared, emphasizing her words.

He growled as she clutched onto him, gripping her hips and pulling her against him roughly. He extended his right hand up and yelled, “Taxi!” just before descending his mouth down on hers, his hand still held aloft as their lips met.

Benedict’s body felt almost numb, so overcome was he with nerve stimulation as their lips finally met after three years of build up. It was in character, yes, but still, it was better than nothing. And, Jesus Christ, were her lips better than any of his many fantasies. He darted his tongue out, slowly, running it along the slit of her mouth gently as he coaxed it open, his hand on her hip gripping more tightly as he felt his knees almost go weak, silly as it was. But, to be honest, the fact that another human being could affect him so, could alter him so, was utterly ineffable. _‘Thank bloody God,’_   he couldn’t help but feel. He eagerly slid his oral muscle into her mouth, meeting hers with as much enthusiasm and eagerness as he allowed himself, without wanting to seem too desperate. He moaned her name. Yes, _her_ name, not ‘Irene’s,’ despite his devotion to, ‘staying in character.’ Thankfully, however, it was muffled by her own kiss in return.

Lara’s eyelids fluttered briefly as she halted in fierce surprise, that despite ages of flirting with the idea, hadn’t actually expected him to move that far—but she was extremely glad he did. Her shock didn’t last long, melding into something akin to frenzy as she hastily managed to gather herself and respond, angling her head up to return the pressure of his kiss. Her left hand came up to brace against his back for support, feeling almost, off balance as they, both, seemed to, momentarily, forget that their actions were certainly media suicide; if one wanted to avoid the media, at any rate. Though, that ship clearly left harbour long ago. If they’d intended to break tumblr. before, then God only knew what they were doing to it now, not that it seemed to matter.

He moaned into her mouth as their tongues dueled for dominance, the kiss turning into more of a show than either of them had intended. The illicit noise was divided equally between Sherlock and himself, both just as staggered. He finally forced himself to pull back, and snap back into character, frowning down at her as he ran his tongue around his mouth in concentrated deduction.

“Low-tar … .  Marlboro Lights … Three and a half days since being opened … Why have you been _smoking_ , Miss Adler? Or, more specifically, _who else_ have you been kissing that’s smoked recently?” He hissed possessively.

She swallowed, catching her breath, her mind taking even longer to register what he was on about, before finally grasping his cue and smirking back at him coyly.

" _Ohh_ …  I think I’m detecting a hint of _jealousy_ , am I not, dear?” She purred, pulling back a bit herself to eye him tauntingly to trick him into thinking the worst. Before he could speak again, she tacked on a bit dryly, “It’s called creative motivation, Mr. Holmes. I found your stash.” She ‘tsk-ed him, raising a challenging brow. “You’re only allowed one addiction, dear, and that’s _me._ ”

Ben growled again, eyes darting betwixt hers as he mumbled back in ‘exasperated’ rebuttal, “You’re certainly expensive enough to warrant the title …  All the bloody clothes I buy you …  But do be careful, Miss Adler, the image of you with a fag in hand is entirely too _arousing_ for me to forgo for eternity … .” He warned before leaning his head down again to circle the puckered ‘O’ shape of her lips with his tongue languidly.

She shivered, but was able to catch the tip of his tongue between her teeth, holding it captive for a moment before letting it go. She pulled away to reply darkly, “Only because you have a habit of /ruining/ them.” Her eyes turned sly though as she focused back on his last comment. “Too bad, though… Now you’re _stuck_ with that mental image. All. Night. Long.” She raised her brows for emphasis. “Consider it your punishment for trying to be sneaky.”

Ben felt his nether regions twitch briefly as she bit his tongue. He scowled, ignoring the squeals of the fans at the window as he asked childishly, “How have I been _'sneaky_?’”

She sucked in a breath mockingly. “Your hiding spots are getting worse, Sherlock.” She accused him tauntingly, knowing how annoyed the detective would be at any hint of his ‘inventiveness’ coming into question. Not to mention that she’d found multiple stashes, she added as an afterthought.

He hissed through his teeth, lowly, glaring at her in ‘sheer’ annoyance at her cocky remark. He opened his mouth to retort, when the honking of a cab suddenly pulled him out of the ‘scene’ entirely, much to his chagrin.

He glanced at her quickly as he whispered, “Should we bow? Or stay in character?”

She snickered quietly. “I think we might as well, at this point.” She answered, trying to force a straight face as she grabbed his coat collar and pulled him towards the car.

He grunted at her, flashing a speedy look of utter exasperation at the crowded window as he muttered to them, “Bloody ‘Woman!’” before allowing her to pull him into the cab, thus ending their little ‘street scene.’ Once safely inside he burst out laughing, fighting for breath as he gave the cabbie his address.

Once fully under control he turned to her and asked in amusement, “Dear God, I shudder to think the twisted, er—’Adlock,’ is it?— ‘fanfiction’ we just inspired.”

She was almost breathless with laughter as well, finally calming herself long enough to respond. “Oh my God, I think you’ve just single-handedly cured my twitter addiction. I am literally terrified to turn on my phone, now.” She laughed, grabbing his arm for aided support.

He grinned widely, “Oh go on, do it. Just read a _few_. Please? Indulge this ‘twitter-less’ man for a minute or two.” He begged, inching closer to her.

She winced, pulling her phone out of her purse and turning it on. “I’m really going to regret this, aren’t I ?” If they ended up trending, she would simply have to kill him. Maybe. As it lit up to life the phone immediately began to make a buzz of continual alerts, meaning she had already missed quite a lot of viral activity. It buzzed a few more times, “Hell.” She chuckled, opening the app, holding it out to him. “You do the first honours, after all, you started this.” She muttered teasingly before thrusting him the phone.

Ben shot her a playful glare as he mumbled something to the effect of how of all people he was obviously the most un-tech savvy, on top of the fact that he had never used the twitter app in his life, much less twitter itself, save a few odd times for promotional reasons for films and such. And even then, he had always had a computer guru by his side ‘holding his hand’ through the entire process, as it were.

He chewed his bottom lip as he scrolled only once before his eyes shot up at a somewhat hastily taken photo of then snogging outside with the following hashtags: #ADLOCK, #ADLOCKISRL, #OMGPULVERPATCHISRL, #PULVERBATCH, and most noteworthy and perplexing of all, #BENISGOINGTOPULVERIZEANDCUMBERLARASBATCHWITHHISBENEDICT.

He turned to her and began tentatively, “Err, um, Lara, what is a ‘Pulverbatch?’ And why am I said to be doing it to, um, your ‘batch?’” He asked her, blushing fiercely at the last word.

She almost snorted, giggling hysterically at his question. “Oh, God. I knew it!" She muttered, looking over his shoulder to read the comments, paying special attention to the last one and the lovely shade of red his cheeks were turning in response to it. He could so easily go from being utterly in control of one situation, to being so helpless in another. It was one of his most endearing qualities, she thought at the least. Plus, making him flustered, she’d learned quite a while ago, was a very fun habit.

She fought the urge to laugh again,clearing her throat as she turned back to him. “Make a deduction, Ben.” She managed, eyeing him coyly.

He thought a moment before his eyes widened like saucers.

"But, but I thought ‘ships’ were just for fictional characters …  Are …  Are you telling me that … That … You and I are …  Um, ‘shipped,’ by … people, fans??” He stammered, flushing even more deeply, if that was possible.

She snickered. “Oh, you poor, naive man. _Yes._ Just a bit.” She informed, amused at his boyish embarrassment. She scrolled down the page further while the phone was still in his hand and let out a ‘Ha!’ as she read a tweet that had been tweeted at her, ‘PULVERBATCH IS ROLEPLAYING ADLOCK AT SPEEDY’S. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!,’ followed by another photo of them in the café, this one much more in focus.

Benedict swallowed and glanced out the window quickly to hide his face, “Oh, oh my, so … .   Um, ‘pulverizing and cumbering your ‘batch’ is … .  Er … .  As suggestive as it sounds… ?” He had to ask, or rather confirmed, cursing his voice internally for cracking on the word, ‘suggestive.”

She tried to falter her smirk for the sake of his embarassment but failed, managing to, at least, look sympathetic. “I told you I knew exactly what they’d be tagging, didn’t I?” She reminded him tauntingly.

He swallowed again and hastily crossed his legs to keep any blood flow south restricted. “Um, er, but surely they don’t, also, write, er,‘fanfiction,’ um, about, um, us, do they … ?” He squeaked out, turning his head back to steal a glance at her.

She laughed, but then looked at him, pouting briefly, before replying, “Well, surely there are worse subjects.” Her tone that of mock offense, despite seeing something else entirely in his eyes. It gave her a hint of giddiness, but she suppressed it.

He groaned audibly at the tantalising confirmation, shifting in his seat before looking out the window quickly as he dared to ask, “How, er, 'smutty?'”

Trying even harder not to laugh, she bit her lip. “If you’re that embarrassed, you really don’t want to know, do you?” She sing-songed, in playful harshness.

He glanced at her tentatively, “I’m not …  Embarrassed, I’m just … .  Er, _bashfully intrigued._ ”

She quirked a brow, smiling slightly, “In that case, they’re exceptionally scandalous.” She specified, realizing even she was getting a bit flustered at the thought. Honestly, what she’d even been thinking reading them was beyond her, but she had been coerced.  

"Hmm, found any more incriminating comments yet?" She pressed with amusement as her eyes darted back down to her phone.

Poor Ben merely closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in response before managed to stiffly spit out, “Hold on, I-I’m still stuck on the fact that you …  Um, have …  apparently, read them, then?”

She pursed her lips, keeping her gaze on the screen of her mobile. “Might have skimmed a _couple_ …” She answered innocently and with a shrug, trying to fight off a grin. “They keep being sent my way, a girl gets curious…”

He narrowed his eyes and nudged her with his hip, “Martin, Amanda, or Loo? Which one?” He asked directly.

She chuckled, nodding in assent. “Amanda and Loo, _both_.” She admitted. “Though, I suspect Martin was involved, in _some_ capacity.” She rolled her eyes. “Speaking of Mr. Cheeky-Comment,’ I’m surprised he hasn’t called.”

Ben quickly retrieved his phone from his trouser pocket to check it. He groaned, having had six missed calls from, said, ‘Mr. Cheeky-Man,’ himself, amongst other various notifications and messages. He turned to Lara and licked his lips “Been there, done that …  All right, look, I have a proposition Miss P.  … ” He rumbled lowly, leaning back towards her and resting a hand on her right knee.

She quirked a brow, turning her phone on silent and tossing it back into her bag. “I’m listening … .” She replied incredulously, angling her body towards him more.

His lips twitched in nervous anticipation for his proposal. “Er, right, well I say we get in contact with Steve and/or Mark, get their blessing for what crimes we’ve committed thus far, and those we have yet to commit—if sanctioned by them, and then turn off our mobiles for the rest of the night. Just you and me …  And maaaaybe a little bit of oral reciting of some of those ‘fanfics …’ If we get drunk enough and fancy, er … a good laugh. ” He added hastily, blushing, yet again, at such forward suggestion.

A grin formed on her face slowly, and she made a contemplative hum. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Cumberbatch.” She decided with a nod. “Question, now, is, who is going to make the call … ?”

He put his hands up in mock surrender.

"Oh, no, _not me_. He’s far too used to me to ever be persuaded by. Besides, he clearly has a huge hard-on for Irene; sway him with that ‘Adler-esque’ charm of yours, that comes so naturally.” He winked, handing her his phone with his other hand before giving her knee a squeeze. “I’ll even give you a treat, if that would give you incentive …” He murmured ambiguously.

She eyed him slyly, but took his phone nonetheless. “Fine, fine!” She mock sighed, already seeing Steven’s number amongst those that had called. She selected it, flipping her hair out of the way and putting the phone to her ear, hearing it ring in nervous anticipation.

As opposed to a proper greeting, the voice on the other end simply announced, “You’re a mad bastard, you know that?” To which Lara chuckled. “I’m merely the hapless victim, but I’ll pass on the information.” She heard Steven scoff on the other end, “Lara? Oi! You lot are _killing_ the net!”

"So we’ve seen, so we’ve seen." She trailed off, almost innocently.

“Have you though, really? And do you and Benedict have something to _tell me_ …?  Us all? The bloody world?”

"Um … That we’re very, very sorry?" She chanced, hoping that the hint of amusement in his voice was a good sign.

"Thank you, dear, but I was referring more to …  Hmm, how should I phrase this … ?  Ah, yes as this hashtag says, ‘#Pulverbatchisofficiallycanon!!’ … . _Lara_ … ?" His voice dropped an octave, taking on an almost, Mycroft-esque, scolding, tone.

She bit her lip, giving Ben a glance. “Not …  last I checked.” She stammered, ambiguously, his question clearly throwing her off, as well as the uncertain and unknown answer to it, at this point.

Benedict cocked his head, curious about her, suddenly, secretive tone, as he adjusted his weight to regard her more fully. If they were talking about what he thought they were talking about, he wasn’t sure how to respond. Steve knew him well. Far, too well. And if anyone was going to confess his love for her, it was bloody well going to be him, and not the ‘dream-crushing,’ ‘Moffat-Machine.’

"Well, what about last Benedict checked, if he really is the instigator in all of this …?”

Ben furrowed his brows, convinced that he had heard his name on the other end. He leaned his head down towards hers and mouthed curiously, 'What's he saying about me?'

She chuckled, pushing him back a bit. “That’s a question for him, love. And for …  not now.” she added, hoping it wasn’t a too akin to, ‘ask-me-in-the-morning-you-bugger.’

“But you have to admit, we’re excellent promoters, are we not?” She added sweetly, hoping to win him over at a little bit, at least.

Steve sighed heavily, “Yes, well …  I suppose, in all actuality, you’ve done a bit of good for Series Four, especially seeing as your character moves from the peripheral to more … centre stage, now that we have a foursome of leads … Just, er, why don’t you spend tonight working on the ‘Pulverbatch ship,’ and we’ll discuss how we can have fun with more of these little stunts for the ‘Adlock’ when we meet, eh?” He advised slowly before adding, “Oh, and Lara … ?”

Putting a hand to her lips to cover a rather bemused grin, she leaned away from Ben a bit. “…Yes?” She asked tentatively, almost worried what he would have to add. With Moffat, you never really knew.

"You should probably know that it was all _his_ doing …  Your coming back fully and properly. We had two options for Miss Adler and were leaning towards a more ‘bittersweet’ one …  He, _thank God_ , passionately talked us out of it. I think, between you and me, though, it was just as much Benedict talking, as it was, ‘Sherlock … .’ _Understood?_ ”

Lara bit her lip and nodded briefly, despite him obviously not being able to see her, intrigued and rather surprised at Steven’s his little match-making attempt.  ”I’ll, um … .  I’ll keep that in mind, thanks Steven.” She uttered softly. “One of us will get back to you tomorrow.”

"Good. _Do._ But for his sake, if not mine, shag the bloody man, all right? Lord knows he wants you.”

She scoffed lightly, rolling her eyes with a flushed grin that was likely, obvious, to all parties involved. Leave it to Steven to get straight to the blunt side side of things. _“Good night!"_ She said, in mock-exasperation, hurriedly ending the call, eyes darting to Ben’s quickly.

Well, this was certainly going to be an …   _interesting_ night.


End file.
